Chapter 11
Though a blustery autumn storm raged outside, Pemberley remained as comfortable and orderly as ever.
Glancing over at his wife, Darcy felt a smile curve his lips unbidden.
This unintended marriage, which had once seemed so disastrous, had already shown him more cause for optimism than he could have hoped.
Taking Elizabeth on her bridal visits had shown him that.
Each time they went out, Darcy was never disappointed.
She had a uniquely charming way about her, never failing to put people at ease and make even the most hardened hearts warm to her.
Indeed, she was considerably better at winning over strangers than he was.
Darcy had the advantage of having known many of Pemberley’s tenants all his life, of recalling the days when a farm or cottage had been held by the previous generation.
Elizabeth was a newcomer and might have been viewed with some caution, had her charm not outweighed all hesitations.
He recalled with some humour how she had won over Mr Abernathy, the grumpy old widower who had been infamous for his bad moods.
Not five minutes after meeting the gentlemen, her good-spirited jests had drawn a reluctant smile from him.
Now, sitting with his wife in the parlour, he could not help but admire her.
His part of their marriage bargain had turned out better than he could have hoped.
True, he had intended to marry a woman of wealth and consequence, but what of it?
Pemberley and the Darcy name had as much of each as he could require.
Elizabeth had a lovely face and a still lovelier spirit, qualities in a wife that were considerably more important to his daily happiness.
How she might view the marriage bargain remained an open question.
Once, Darcy would have casually assumed it must be little short of a triumph for her.
What young woman would not wish to marry Pemberley and ten thousand pounds a year, particularly when she had no dowry to speak of and few prospects?
Elizabeth would not, for she had wished above all things to marry for love. And that, however trusting and friendly their marriage might come to be, had been denied her. Their partnership might be rich in respect and free from contention, but it was founded in necessity, not romance.
At that thought, even Darcy’s satisfaction sent a thread of guilt through his belly.
Darcy tried to push away his gloomy thoughts, for they did not seem likely to produce anything productive. He sipped his tea while he read the newspaper. Elizabeth sat on the opposite side of the sitting area, reading a book.
The scene of domestic tranquillity was abruptly broken by the entrance of a footman, his expression harried and alarmed.
“Forgive the intrusion, Mr Darcy. Lady Catherine de Bourgh has arrived, along with —”
Before he could finish, Lady Catherine entered the room with a swirl of skirts and an air of condescension that Darcy felt to be the unique mark of his mother’s oldest sister. She looked down her nose at him.
“And Lady Anne de Bourgh,” the footman finished dully.
“Thank you,” Darcy said, rising from his chair and hoping his stunned displeasure was not visible on his face. “Welcome, Aunt. I did not know you were coming.”
He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.
“Yes, I know. If you had known, you might have run away to London rather than receive your own aunt and cousin.” She waved her daughter forward. “Stand up straight, Anne,” she scolded.
Lady Catherine eyed Elizabeth derisively. Well-mannered as always, she had risen from her seat and was looking curiously at the interlopers, waiting to be introduced and make her bows.
“Allow me to present my new wife to you, Lady Catherine,” Darcy began. “This is Elizabeth Darcy, formerly Elizabeth Bennet of Hertfordshire. Elizabeth, allow me to present my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. This is my cousin, Lady Anne de Bourgh.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Elizabeth replied at once with a graceful bow. “How delightful to meet more of my husband’s family.”
“How delightful it is remains to be seen,” Lady Catherine answered coldly, while Anne said nothing at all.
Darcy inwardly cringed. His aunt was not unpredictable, in that she could always be counted upon to make everyone around her profoundly uncomfortable.
“You have not brought Mrs Jennings with you, cousin?” Darcy asked Anne. Her companion was normally by her side at all times, seeing to it that Anne never lacked for a warm shawl or a handkerchief.
Anne shook her head and seemed about to answer, but Lady Catherine spoke first. “Mrs Jennings had taken a visit to her sister’s family when I learned of your marriage. We could not wait for her to return.”
“Could you not?” Darcy asked, a little ironically. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, Lady Catherine?” The question must be asked, though he suspected the answer was not one he would welcome.
“I have come to bring your new wife up to standard, if that is even possible. It will be all I can do to reduce the degradation of Pemberley.”
Anne trailed behind her mother and shot him an apologetic glance. She went to the sitting area without being invited and slumped down.
Darcy stiffened, feeling his jaw clench involuntarily as it so often did in Lady Catherine’s company. The insult to him was bad enough, but he had no intention of putting up with such abuse of Elizabeth. “There will be no need for that. My wife is perfectly capable —”
“A mere country gentleman’s daughter with no relations of any consequence? I hardly think so.” She cast a disparaging glance at Elizabeth. “From the looks of her, you will need to send her to finishing school just to bring her up to snuff.”
Darcy had opened his mouth, though he hardly knew whether it was to order his aunt from the grounds or to inform her exactly what she could do with her insulting insinuations, when he was stopped by a gentle touch on his arm.
Elizabeth stood beside him with a brilliant smile.
“My dear, your aunt and cousin must be very tired from their long journey. Shall we not sit down for tea?” she asked sweetly.
“Perhaps that would be for the best,” he agreed slowly.
“Yes, I am sure it is. You must be so weary, Lady Catherine! And you, Miss de Bourgh.” Elizabeth nodded toward his cousin, who gave a nervous laugh and a half-smile.
Before anyone could object, Elizabeth had chivvied them over to the tea table, directed Anne to the warmest seat nearest the fire, and called for refreshments.
Pemberley’s servants being as efficient as ever, it was not long before they all had a cup of tea in hand and a plate of dainties before them.
His aunt seemed taken aback by being treated so kindly.
It was certainly more than she deserved after the way she had treated Elizabeth.
She did not even know her and had attacked her immediately on the first occasion of their meeting.
Elizabeth had shown all the good breeding Lady Catherine accused her of lacking in handling the situation so deftly, not to mention so graciously.
“Well, at least someone in the house has some manners,” Lady Catherine said as she sipped her tea. “And the servants have not yet got out of line, I see.”
Darcy bristled at the obvious slight, but kept the peace. Perhaps, with luck, Lady Catherine had merely needed to have the last word before remembering her manners.
He ought to have known it was a vain hope. Lady Catherine was only preparing her next volley. “I hear you are one of five daughters, Mrs Darcy. Is that so?”
Darcy was unsure how she had heard that, but of course, his aunt had her sources.
He had said nothing of her family in his letter, only that they were from Hertfordshire and that her father was a country gentleman.
Perhaps Fitzwilliam’s mother, the Countess of Matlock, had filled in the details from the more in-depth letter he had sent his cousin.
Elizabeth did not seem shaken by the line of questioning.
“Indeed it is, ma’am, and I am very glad that it is so.
One is never lonely in a household of five young women — though I must admit peace and quiet were sometimes in short supply.
” Upon seeing Lady Catherine’s teacup almost empty, Elizabeth took up the pot and refilled it for her, though she might have called the maid to do so.
It was very like her, Darcy thought. Another woman might have wished to show off her position, particularly in the face of Lady Catherine’s pointed questioning; Elizabeth simply saw to her guests’ comfort.
“How was your journey, Lady Catherine?” Elizabeth continued. “It took us three days to arrive home. From what part of England do you hail?”
“My estate, Rosings Park, is in Kent. I believe you will have heard of it?” Lady Catherine demanded imperiously.
“No, I am sorry to say I have not. Is it as large as Pemberley?” Elizabeth looked over at Darcy and gave a brilliant smile. “I must confess, I have never seen a house more lovely than Pemberley.”
“Very nearly as large,” Lady Catherine admitted reluctantly, and not quite accurately. Though the house at Rosings Park was nearly as large as Pemberley, the estate itself was considerably smaller.
“I myself am very proud of my home,” Lady Catherine continued sternly.
“It has been the work of many generations. My husband had all the glazing redone when we were first married, God rest his soul, and saw to it that the formal gardens were brought up to date.” She looked over at him.
“Darcy has done much to the grounds of Pemberley since his father died. Or have you even taken notice? Too busy counting your newfound fortune, I suppose?”